TJOURNAL.COM • Website of The Tri-County Journal & Chattahoochee Chronicle |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The Tri-County Journal |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Daddy Duty is written by Richard Harris, publisher of The Tri-County Journal & Chattahoochee Chronicle.
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
I'm No Sinatra |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Most mornings I duel with the snooze button on my alarm clock. Upon waking, I roll out of bed and slap the button to temporarily silence the sound so I can collapse back in bed for another precious nine minutes of rest ... and then do it again, for a total of 18 sweet minutes of extra slumber. I am becoming quite skilled in my battles against the snooze button, as I must execute the routine perfectly for it to work. You see my opponent has a partner. If my wife is awakened before I hit the button, the game is over, because she is not a fan. For some reason she thinks it's more restful to simply set the alarm clock to go off 18 minutes later, rather than be jarred awake twice before actually deciding to get out of bed for good. One recent morning, however, I awoke feeling as fresh as the first day of spring. I scoffed at the snooze button, turned the alarm clock off, then turned to my wife and said, "Get up, honey, it's a beautiful day!" The reply was somewhat muted, but I managed to make out the words, "That's easy for you to say, Mr. Sinatra! Why don't you go play in the meadow where the sky is blue. Just hit the snooze button and shut up." "But I thought you didn't like the snooze button," I said, wondering if she was starting to lose it completely, rather than just waking up on the wrong side of the bed. I left her alone until later in the morning (about half way through her second cup of coffee when the team of bell-hops had finally managed to carry off the bags under her eyes). Then I felt safe to broach the subject of why she was in a foul mood and why she had referred to me as "Mr. Sinatra" when she knows I couldn't carry a tune if it was handed to me zipped up in a suitcase. "Honey, did Drew (our 6-month-old son) keep you awake again last night? You know I sleep right through the crying, but you can wake me up to take care of him sometimes if you want to." (Note to new fathers: Saying that early in the morning is a great way to score points, because it make you sound very sympathetic ... but use it sparingly after the sun goes down.) "No, Drew slept find last night, but I couldn't get a wink because you kept singing one of those silly Disney songs in your sleep all night. I kept hearing about how Tiger and Eeyore and their good friend Pooh lived in a meadow where the sky is blue. I'd elbow you in the ribs, but you'd just grunt and move on to the next verse a few minutes later. ... I swear if I hear that song one more time not only will you be sleeping on the sofa tonight, but I'm going to sneak into the nursery and take vengeance by ripping that Pooh doll apart." The next morning Drew woke up and began to cry just as the alarm clock was sounding. "Honey, I know you need your rest. Do you want me to hit the snooze button and sing Drew back to sleep for a little while?" "Only if you want me to stick that alarm clock somewhere where the sky ain't blue," said my wife before dutifully rising to care for our son. P.S. -- If any of you readers have an extra Pooh doll, please let me know. Drew's is missing. |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||